


Why It’s Gettng Better...Kind Of

by Ace_Of_Spades_2014



Series: Why It's Worse This Time [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Cas, M/M, Mark of Cain, Smut, Top!Cas, alternate season 10, bottom!Dean, top!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Of_Spades_2014/pseuds/Ace_Of_Spades_2014
Summary: Dean’s cursed with the Mark of Cain and it lusts for blood and adrenaline. The only thing that can calm it is Cas.*This the sequel to Why It’s Worse This Time, but it can be read by itself.





	1. Chapter 1

Dean was driving the impala, his bloodied knuckles thrumming against the steering wheel in excess energy. There had been a bruise on the left edge of his jaw, but that cleared up not long after getting into the car and driving away from the scene of the wendigo’s death. 

Sam was riding shotgun, glaring out the window with his teeth clenched. In the back, Cas’s gaze went from the road ahead of them to the ugly red scar that marked an otherwise beautiful body. 

The case was simple enough, as far as their usual cases went. A wendigo had killed five campers in the last two months, leaving obvious tracks to follow, and nothing or no one obstructing them. The problem was that once they had cornered the wendigo the Mark had taken ahold of the dirty-blonde hunter. It was terrifying to watch the once Righteous Man he had risen from Hell lose himself to bloodlust. Sam and him hadn’t been given much of a chance to intervene as Dean slashed at the fighting wendigo, blind and deaf to the world except for the blood and guts he had spilling out of the body beneath him. 

And still, despite the blood that had been spilled, the Mark was still not satisfied. 

Dean glared with darkened eyes at the long road ahead, and a sound that cried out miserably. 

The moment they arrived in the bunker’s garbage, Sam was out of the car and on his way to get the keys to another vehicle. “I’ll be back late,” he spoke to both of them, though only Cas was truly hearing him. “Don’t wait up.”

Cas was quick to get out from the same side as Dean so he could put a calming hand on the hunter’s shoulder blades and whisper huskily into his ears, “Wait for me in your room.”

The rant or snark that would have been on Dean’s tongue never left. Instead, he stepped out of Cas’s touch and waved his brother off with a gruff. “Be safe.” Then he was walking to the door that led into the bunker. The door slammed shut behind him. 

“Good luck with that,” Sam sympathized.

“I’ll be fine. And so will Dean.”

Sam’s smile was thin and not altogether reassured, but he thanked his friend anyway and got into a dark blue car that Dean had recently got up and running. 

With the younger Winchester gone - both to get a break from the Mark and to give Cas privacy to handle Dean on his own - the angel went inside. The bunker was quiet, but there was a peace about it that he always felt when returning. The peace of home. A peace that, even with a tormented Dean residing inside, was still palpable. 

Cas walked down the staircase and then down the long hallway to Dean’s. He didn’t bother knocking before opening the door and going in. The moment he did, he found himself pushed into the wall, the door slammed shut, and a muscled body closing in and him. 

Calloused hands were pinning Cas’s wrists to the wall. Dry, chapped lips were kissing him with bruising force. A hardness was pressed urgently into Cas’s thigh so close to his own growing need.

Cas allowed Dean to take his control over him for now, accepting the brutal kiss and the way the hunter’s body began to trust against him. But only for a time. Then he was escaping Dean’s lips to bite at the hunter’s neck and collarbone. He freed his hands from Dean’s strong grip to place them on gorgeously sculpted hips. With angelic strength, he stepped forward, forcing Dean backwards until the back of his knees hit the end of his bed and he could push him onto his back.

In response to being manhandled, Dean gave a crooked grin and propped himself up on his elbows. An eyebrow rose as if to question the angel’s next move, and to challenge the dominance that had been displayed. Cas stared down at him, thinking quickly about how the night needed to play out. 

“Take everything off,” he decided, his voice low and full of gravel. Dean’s grin widened at the command and he moved to pull his shirt from over his head. Then, the grin turning into a smirk, he began to unbuckle his belt. 

At the sight of the smirk, Cas went back into action to put an end to Dean’s obvious challenge and show of dominance. He took the place of Dean’s hands once the belt was loose and used his own deft fingers to unbuckle his jeans and pulled them off in one quick motion. There was still enough grace in him that he could have zapped their clothes away instantly, but Dean seemed to enjoy this process. 

“Well,” Dean all but growled when he was left bare upon his memory foam mattress, “do I get the same please of seeing you naked?”

For just a moment Cas thought about staying fully clothed while he took care of Dean, but that was a display of control and power he wasn’t sure the hunter was ready for yet. They had been doing this for only a few days. So, with a show of elegance, he began to slowly pull his tie loose and unbutton his shirt. 

Too slow for Dean obviously, who pushed himself up into a sitting position to tear the shirt away, giving no mind to the buttons that fell to the floor. Cas would have to reprimand him for that later, but knew he wasn’t in the right state of mind to listen to any form of critique. 

When Cas was put in the same state as Dean, Dean once again grabbed the angel’s wrists to pull him onto the bed as well. He tried to wrestle Cas onto his back, but Cas was still a bit stronger than the Indian strength that the Mark provided, and he ended up successfully straddling Dean’s groin. Their hardened lengths pressed together, making both of them moan loudly. 

One of the hunter’s hands dug into his hip bone while the other hand tried to wrap around Cas’s erection. Cas growled in response. He took Dean’s and held it above his head, putting force into keeping it there. Leaning forward, Cas warned, “Stay still or there will be consequences.” He wasn’t quite sure of what those consequences would be, but knew that he had the right tone and right words to satisfy Dean’s immediate needs. Dean smirked sexily at the threat and dug his other fingers deeper into Cas’s hips, but otherwise didn’t make a move. With a smug but mostly compliant hunter, Cas took his free hand to take a hold of both of them and stroke with vigor. 

It was rough and fast and what Dean would call “dirty”, and the pleasure was immense for both of them. Their moans echoed throughout the room, only to be broken by the sounds of panting for breath (from the human), the slick movement of skin on sweaty skin, and the banging of the headboard against the wall. Cas felt the now familiar tightening in the lower part of his vessel’s mid-section. It caused his hand to stutter in its jerking motions, enjoying the way Dean pulsed in his palms and against his own pulsating cock. With a final stroke, sliding their slick coated dicks together, they came in hot spurts. 

Cas moved off of Dean so they they lay side by side. Next to him, Dean’s chest heaved from the exertion, his muscled body glistening in sweat. Heavy eyelids were closed over dazed, green eyes as slowly breathed out puffs of air. The Mark on his arm began to fade. It was more flesh colored now than an angry, violent red, a reassuring indication that Cas had succeeded in giving him the release that he had needed. 

A short time later, Dean propped himself on his left elbow to look at the angel that lay beside him calmly. Blue eyes met green. “You know, the fact that you’re always so...you...after this, kind of makes me feel a bit inadequate.” It was a relief to hear the light tone back in Dean’s voice. 

“I was quite satisfied with you, don’t worry.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying: no hard breathing, no sweat…”

“I don’t sweat under any circumstances.”

“Right, well,” he rolled himself off the bed, “I’m gonna get cleaned up and then get some food.” He disappeared from the room before Cas could respond. 

That left the angel flat on his back staring at a well-structured, white ceiling, with just enough grace in him to remain calm after a rough bout of sex but not enough grace to cleanse himself without the use of a shower. So he stayed like that, mess and all, until he heard the water turn off, the bathroom door open and footsteps head towards the kitchen. Then he was gathering his clothes and making his way to the bathroom himself. 

Taking a shower was one of the few human pleasures Cas still partook in and enjoyed even after regaining grace. That and sex. Though the sex, as rough and fast as it was, was much better than what he remembered it to be with April. The reason for that was obvious: Dean. Anything with Dean was better by far than the best of someone else.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas woke up in the room that the WInchesters had told him was his, though “woke up” might be the wrong term. It was more like rousing himself into awareness after hours of mediation. 

The main factor remained, however. Cas was alone in his room; not Dean’s.

It wasn’t that he regretted his decision to be the one to help Dean release his pent up energy and stress. He knew that he was the only one strong enough to handle Dean in such a manner, and he took pride in knowing that he could still be of use to the man he had raised from Hell. It was just hard to know that their “intimacy” was only that - a release. 

And as better off Dean would be for the next few days, Cas wouldn’t really be needed. Not until the Mark began to take control again. 

The moment he opened his door, he could hear the brothers in the kitchen. Though he didn’t necessarily need nourishment, Cas gladly accepted the batch of pancakes that Dean had drizzled with honey and handed to him. As they ate, he remained quiet, listening to Sam and Dean about their plans for the day. Apparently there was a case two town away that another hunter had called for help with, but there was an unspoken agreement between the brothers that after such a close call with the Mark that Dean would relax for as long as possible. Sam seemed to be under the impression that such a routine would decrease the Mark’s appetite. Neither Dean nor Cas had the heart to inform him that the Mark didn’t work that way. 

The problem with that was that while Sam headed off for the case by himself for however many days it would to solve, Cas would be stuck in the bunker with Dean. 

The Dean part of that equation wasn’t any issue. Cas always enjoyed Dean’s company, or at least, when he was being rude and unmanageable, liked having the hunter around to make sure that he was well. The issue lay in the fact that Cas was a restless being. Once having wings that allowed him to be everywhere and anywhere, feeling the wind through his incorporeal feathers and having his grace spread out in all its glory, made him yearn for that type of freedom again. 

It was for that reason that Cas so often left the bunker and the boys in an attempt to accomplish his own missions, to attempt to atone for his mistakes by going out on his own. Even without wings, he felt the need to “fly”, to get away and keep moving. 

His new mission centered around Dean now though, which meant he would stay around for as long as Dean would allow him to be there. 

The second they saw Dena out, Dean disappeared somewhere in the bunker. Curious, but not altogether worried, Cas made his way into the library. Along the entire length of the study wall, the bookshelf housed old, mystic texts and ancient volumes. Among the sea of informational collections, the Men of Letters over the years - as well as Sam and Dean - had added their own choice of readings. 

Almost absentmindedly, Cas reached for one of Dean’s books and took a seat on the loveseat that Sam had dragged in one day without a word as to where he had gotten it. It was a book that Metatron had put into his head along with all the other pop culture tidbits had had thought necessary to equip Cas with, so he already the plot and quotes, but Cas had learned that the experience of watching or reading something was much more pleasurable than just knowing. 

He was just a few few pages in when Dean came back, howling a small TV set in his arms. Blue eyes watched him in interest the moment he came into the library, tilting his dead when the hunter set the TV down a few feet away from the couch and began plugging in wires.

“You bought a TV.” Cas hoped it had been bought rather than be obtained by other means.

Dean smiled with a casual shrug. “Yea, I was getting tired of watching the classics on a laptop. Just doesn’t do it justice.”

The book he had been reading was put aside. “And what ‘classic’ are you making me watch through this time?”

Dean grinned, not catching the air quotes and sarcasm that Cas had chosen to display. “Indiana Jones. I have all five.”

In Cas’s opinion the movies were illogical and highly inaccurate - a fact that he had already known from the knowledge placed in his head. As much as Cas enjoyed watching TV, he started to understand that he had a preference towards sitcoms (as Cas referred to them as) and Dean’s “bad soap operas”. Dean was certainly into it, though, and halfway through the second movie Cas found himself watching the man beside him rather than what was playing on the small screen. Generally, Dean would have been bothered by the intense staring, but he was too enthralled by Harrison Ford to take notice. 

It was a moment of rare peace to see the utter relaxation on the hunter’s face. There was even that small smile that tugged at the edges of his mouth. Cas would like to think that the easy manner that Dean now held himself with was due to the angel’s presence more than watching some handsome professor with a cowboy hat and whip.

Two thirds of the way through the third movie, Cas took his not so subtle gaze off of the still entrance hunter to grab the book he had put aside and start reading again. That movement, more than the staring, caught the man’s attention. “Dude!”

“I am a wave of celestial intent Dean. I can multitask.” His grace warmed pleasantly at Dean’s genuine bark of laughter.

The next day Cas spent the beginning reading in the war room, listening to the sounds of Dean’s radio from the garage as he worked on the vintage cars. Later in the afternoon Dean took a break to make lunch, trying to entice Cas with a peanut butter sandwich. Cas appreciated the gesture, but was disappointed that it lacked the precise flavor as it did when he was human. Afterwards, they sat together on the couch again. This time Cas convinced Dean to put on Dr. Sexy, though he hardly needed convincing. “Trying to impress me with your taste of TV shows to make me forget about your complete and utter disrespect from yesterday?” Dean grinned. Throughout it all, Sam dutifully texted his brother so there was no unnecessary worry.   
At the end of the day they both retired to their separate rooms, neither one needing to sleep any time soon.

On the third day Cas noticed that the Mark was becoming a slight shade darker and Dean was consistently scratched the scar due to irritation. His behavior, however, remained calm...or at least as calm as he normally was before the curse. In addition to responding to his little brother’s texts, he called him throughout the day, many times stepping out of the room to do so.

By the fourth day, Dean had managed to hold onto his rationality and sense of self, but lost himself to restlessness. Cas could hardly blame him; he had been getting what the brothers called “cabin fever” himself the first day in. The angel was just better at hiding it than the human. 

“Let’s hit the bar.”

Cas was sure Sam would disapprove of the action, but he too needed to get out of the bunker. Besides, Cas didn’t really want to say anything that would rile Dean up something about not needing a babysitter. Dean was still in a relatively good mood and Cas would do all that he could to keep that up for as long as possible.

So Dean rolled his eyes as he took the keys to Cas’s “pimp mobile” and drove them to the nearest bar. Once they arrived Dean ordered their beers and got them seats closest to the pool table. “You remember what I thought you about playing?”

Cas nodded. “I remember everything you try to teach me.”

Crystallized green eyes stared blankly at the angel for a second. The comment, for some reason, seemed to have caught him off guard. But then he turned away to grab two pool sticks, handing one to Cas. “Well, then, let’s play.”

The angel enjoyed the rounds they played. The game itself was interesting enough with the challenge that Dean provided, granted that Cas didn’t use his own angelic advantages, and it was always pleasurable having Dean so close by and in a cheerful disposition. However, there was something about it that was different than all the other times they had played that left Cas feeling out of sorts. 

In the their games before, Dean had played with little to no regards to personal space. He would bump Cas’s shoulder, calloused hands would touch him innocently but still somehow intimately, and would lean into Cas’s space to tease and mock him. This time Dean kept to his own little bubble, careful to not cross some invisible line. As long as Dena continued to grin and laugh, Cas tried not to take offense. 

When the fifth day came around, the phone calls became more incessant, demanding to know what was taking so long. Sam sent a text apologizing to Cas. “There was more than one ghost. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

In Dean’s increased restlessness, he also became distant. This too Cas tried not to take offense. He knew that Dean was just trying to decrease the chances that he would act out against the angel. At least alone in his room with his music the only damage done could be to his own property. 

Upon realizing that this was Dean’s plan for the day, Cas thought to explore the bunker a bit, having only glimpsed a few rooms in the past. Many of rooms further down the living quarters, just before the dungeon, were filled with nothing but paperwork and cardboard boxes. It was obvious which rooms Sam had combed through, organized the shelves and boxes, but leaving dust behind. The ones that Dean had gone through were the opposite. They were clean, but the boxes and paperwork had merely been riffled through, some of the smaller artifacts that had been documented and stashed away now missing. If searched for, Cas knew they would be found in Dean’s room.

In the evening Cas pulled a new book off of the bookshelf and retired to his room. Compared to Dean’s bedroom, Cas’s personal area was simple, lacking the decorations and “style” that the eldest Winchester thought pertinent to one’s living space. Still, Cas had to give himself credit, it had more personality than Sam’s room who only had his laptop and the necessities. At least Cas had photos placed on top of the bookshelf that the boys had put in for him. He had filled it with his favored books, many of them picked up in front of libraries where they had been put inside a box labeled “Free Books”. There was an anthology of angels that Cas had found in the bunker was taking his time leafing through and editing, littering the margins with corrections. And there was also a Bluejay’s feather that he had picked up from the graveled steps leading to the bunker’s front door. 

With Dean’s room just down the hall and no other noises to interrupt him, Cas could clearly hear Led Zeppelin and AC/DC play on repeat, only slightly drowning out the hunter’s agitated steps as he paced his room. 

He could also hear when the music was lowered and Dean dropped into the comfort of his mattress. Soon enough the hunter drifted into a fitful sleep while Cas was left reading with only part of his attention on the book. Mostly, he strained his hearing to make sure that his human was okay. He would have preferred to be there with Dean, but knew that his presence would be considered “creepy” rather than comforting. 

However, when it became shouts of “No! Sam!” the angel had to go to his side. The hunter was bare chested. His freckled skin was flushed, the muscles of his face twisted in agony, and the Mark was a violent red, the veins around it pulsing angrily. He was past the point of having Cas dream walk into his mind and change the scenery. The Mark had done fast work this night. 

“Dean,” Cas tried to soothe. He reached for the hunter’s shoulder, prepared for the reaction that would undoubtedly come. “Dean, wake up.” He pushed some of his grace into him, forcing him out of his visions of hell. 

As expected, the hunter shot up. Green eyes were dark and haunted. Cas kept the stare, unwilling to crack under the pressure of the darkness that surrounded them. 

“Cas,” he breathed out, the name coming out broken and raspy. Awareness began to reach his eyes, but the darkness remained. 

Cas stayed still, waiting for Dean to make the first move so he would know how to react in return. After a minute of staring into Cas’s concerned gaze, Cas felt rough hands take hold of his sides. Then all of a sudden the angel was on his back with a hunter, hovering over him. “I need you.”

“Of course.”


	3. Chapter 3

Cas woke up long before Dean did, hearing the now steady heartbeat of the hunter. It was soothing to know that he had been capable of once again calming the Mark before anything could manifest from it. More than that, it was satisfying to know that he was the reason Dean had been able to escape his nightmares. 

For long, pleasurable minutes Cas laid with Dean, enjoying the presence of the warm body beside him. After a time though, Cas forced himself away and out of the bed. Sam was supposed to return sometimes in the morning and by the time he got there, he knew there shouldn’t be any evidence of his and Dean’s level of intimacy. The youngest Winchester may have suspected something between them, but he didn’t know all the details and Cas knew that Dean would prefer to keep it that way.

So he went to the bathroom just down the hall to enjoy the warm water pressure of the showers. Not bothering to even try to cleanse himself with his grace, he stepped under the steam of water and closed his eyes. He stayed like that for a long time, letting the hunter’s sweat and smell of sex off of his body. 

When he stepped out Dean was still fast asleep. Which was understandable. Until Cas had joined him and eased away the haunting, Dean had been too busy tossing and turning and surviving hell to get any amount of rest. Cas got dressed and then went to the kitchen. 

Though he wasn’t any good at cooking, he was capable of making sandwiches. True, it wasn’t much, but he figured Dean would appreciate the gesture. Dean always appreciated food. 

By the time all the bread had been used, Dean was still not up and Sam had still not arrived. Now simply becoming bored and restless, Cas went in search of a new project. 

Sam finally got back just a little after noon, and it was his shout of arrival that woke Dean. “Dude, have you seriously been sleeping in this late?” Sam wondered incredulously as his older brother walked into the room with pillow hair and a comfortable, white bathrobe wrapped loosely around him, most likely covering a well toned body clad only in boxer briefs. Dean huffed as a way of greeting. 

“I made food,” the angel announced. “And coffee.” The Winchesters stared at him blankly as if his words hadn’t been entirely understood, but then they were smiling and moving into the kitchen. 

“Think you made enough there Cas?” Dean joked already grabbing one meat and stuffing it in his mouth. 

Sam went about accepting the sandwiches more gracefully. “Thanks Cas. What’s the occasion.”

I wanted to do something nice, Cas thought, but knew sentiment was often a taboo in the bunker, especially when Dean was in the room. “I got bored.”

Green eyes locked onto his with an unreadable expression. Then in an instant, his gaze was back on the pile of sandwiches. “Good thing for us then, huh?”

They were halfway through eating when Dean turned to his brother. “So, hear about any cases while you were out?”

Hazel eyes narrowed. “Dean, you’ve got to be kidding. Seriously?”

“What?”

“I just got back from a case.”

“Okay. Well we can head out tomorrow.”

“Dude, I’m exhausted.”

“Then get some sleep.”

The face Sam made was taunt and exasperated. “I meant from hunting.”

“Well I’m tired of being on lock down.”

The argument could have gone on for hours. Both of the brothers were extremely stubborn. Cas put a stop to it before it go to the inevitable part of getting out of hand. “I think I found a case. A wendigo.” Dean looked at him in what Cas assumed was gratitude. Sam on the other hand, was now redirecting his infamous bitch face on the angel. “Simple enough. Dean and I can go alone if you would prefer to stay behind this time.”

The bitch face became an angry scowl. “I’m not staying behind.”

Dean smiled and slapped his brother on the back. “Guess we’re all going then.”

With that, Dean left the room. The second he was out of sight and out of earshot, Sam turned on Cas. “Seriously man? What the hell?”

It was Cas’s turn to scowl. Usually such harsh phrases came out of Dean’s mouth, not Sam’s. “I found a case.”

Sam scoffed. “So I heard. Didn’t think to just stay here a bit longer? To not tempt Dean into unnecessary violence.”

“I was not aware that hunting a wendigo who is killing innocent people was unnecessary.” 

The boy’s hazel eyes became darker in his disgruntled rage. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. And your intent is misguided. The Mark will lust after blood whether or not Dean participates in the violence of hunting. Actually, it would actually be for the best if Dean hunted more regularly rather than be stuck here for any longer.” Plus, Cas didn’t feel the need to add, he himself needed to get out. 

Despite the angel’s level tone, Sam was becoming more viciously irritated the more they talked. Through clenched teeth, he argued. “I don’t want my brother losing himself in a bath of blood, monster or not.”

For a brief second Cas thought of informing Sam that a lack of killing would eventually lead to a very sick Dean, but pushed it down. Dean wouldn’t take the revealed secret likely. 

Remaining appeared to be the correct response, for Sam visibly calmed. More reasonably, the younger Winchester tried to reassure. “Just give a few days then I can go with you.”

The angel groaned. “It is a simple case.” His voice was becoming sterner, gaining the sharp edge prompted by his power. “Dean and I will be fine on our own. I will look after him.” Seeing the argument on the tip of Sam’s tongue, he rephrased in finality, “I am capable of looking after him. Certainly more capable than you are in this regards.”

The moment he said it, he regretted it. Sam’s irritated demeanor morphed into hurt, his hardened hazel eyes looking like that of a kicked puppy. Cas tried to back track, but Sam was already steeling himself away. “Then go,” he seethed, “but if anything happens to my brother, you’re dead to me.” Then he stormed off.

Cas was left alone with three sandwiches on the plate, at a loss of what had just happened. It was usually Dean that raged for nonsensical reasons, not Sam. 

It wasn’t just confusion that seeped into Cas’s senses, but regret and hurt too. For the months that Dean had been cursed, Sam and Cas had been relying on each other to get through with a stable and sane mind. They were each other’s support, and Cas was pained to think that his careless words had ruined that relationship, had weakened the bonds of friendship that had been strengthening all this time. 

Crestfallen, Cas went to find Dean to inform him that they would be going on the hunt themselves. 

The hunter was in his room, dressed in tight dark blue jeans and a worn AC/DC shirt. He noticed that Dean’s dirty blonde hair was damp and that his skin was heated, evidence that the man had quickly taken a shower so as to prepare for the hunt. The Mark was ugly, but it was pale, and Cas felt a wave of relief in the midst of the pain from his interaction with Sam. 

A plaid over shirt lay on the bed with a duffle bag beside it, a stack of clothes already neatly folded into it. The sight was reassuring, another clear sign that Cas had made the right decision. 

“We will be going on our own. Sam wishes to stay here.”

Dean looked up, only mildly surprised, but he shook it off and went back to packing. “That’s fine. Kid deserves a break.” He grinned. “And we deserve some fresh air and a little action.”

“Yes, I agree.”

The agreement caused Dean’s grin to widen. “So, when do you want to head out?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean’s plan, upon learning that Sam wasn’t actually going with them, was to at least spend some time with his brother before heading out. Except, when Sam refused to lighten up, Dean shrugged, got his duffle bag from the bed, and they left that evening. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas felt the need to say as he got into the passenger seat of the impala and Dean drove away from the bunker. 

“For what?”

“For Sam not coming with us.”

The look in Dean’s eyes was confused and easy, a sense of laughter present. “Hardly your fault Cas. Sam’s just tired. Like I said before, kid deserves a break.”

It was a four hour drive to the motel that lay just on the outskirts of the town where the wendigo was preying on its victims, complete with classic rock echoing throughout the interior, Dean’s drumming fingers against the steering wheel and his out of tune singing, and the rush of fresh air that came in through the open windows.

Though he was feeling guilty at having created a rift between himself and Sam, there was a part of him that was happy to be going out on a hunt with Dean alone. For as much as he loved the younger Winchester and enjoyed his company, it was nice to not be sitting in the backseat or being treated like a third wheel.

Years ago, being the third wheel had hardly mattered to Cas, who had been happy enough to just be seen as a Winchester and not understanding what the term actually meant. Now, though, Cas had gone through enough human emotions to know better.

And this was better. Dean was in his “happy place”, driving his baby down a highway. His chapped, plump, pink lips singing along with whatever one of his songs. Beautiful forest green eyes were locked on the road in front of him, a sense of peace in his gaze, and the tension faded from his broad muscles. 

Before reaching the motel, they drove through a drive-thru to pick up burgers and fries. Cas was only moderately disappointed that they hadn’t stopped at a diner. 

When they did reach the motel, Cas was halfway through his bacon cheeseburger, a choice that was enthusiastically received by Dean who barked with his throaty laughter and asked for the same thing. Once putting the car in park, Dean told him to wait in the car awhile he got the room for them. It didn’t take long for the hunter to come back. There weren’t that many people checking in at 11:30 on a Tuesday night. 

“There are two beds,” was the first thing Cas stated when they got inside the room and the door was shut behind them. There was no emotion in his voice. He wasn’t even sure why he has said that thought out loud. In retrospect, he should have kept it to himself.

Fortunately, Dean didn’t say anything about it. He rose an eyebrow in the angel’s direction, then walked past to set his duffle bag down. There was nothing irritated about his demeanor, though, so Cas figured he hadn’t mentioned anything he shouldn’t have. 

Still, it was disappointing. On their drive here he had been so sure that Dean would take advantage of them being alone together, away from the bunker. 

Cas took his place on the other bed. He reached for the remote to turn on the TV, making sure the volume was low enough that it wouldn’t keep Dean up when he decided to fall asleep. Soon enough, the hunter drifted off, curling onto his side, hugging the second pillow to his chest. Cas kept a watchful eye over him throughout the night, smiling at the adorable sight whenever he snuggled deeper into the pillows. 

From midnight to six, Dean slept peacefully. Whether from Cas’s intimate touch from the night before or his mere presence now, the Mark was dormant. 

At six, the alarm on Dean’s phone went off and the hunter grunted awake. Cas’s gaze left the TV screen to watch as Dean stretched, admiring the way his body moved. “How did you sleep?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Pretty good. Though I’d totally kill for a coffee.”

The angel stood. “No need to resort to violence. I’ll go get you some.”

Dea had a sleepy smile, feet swung over the edge of the bed, palms rubbing away from weariness from his eyes. “Aw, my angel.”

They set out to the woods within the hour to track down the wendigo, donning preserve uniforms, fake badges, and gear to get hem through the night if need be. 

The woods were mostly quiet. With the exception of the wendigo that was hiding out somewhere, these woods only housed little creatures. Cas could hear the patter of small paws, birds chirping, and breezing wind. The two of them stepped lightly onto the woodland dirt, barely even crunching the crisp leaves. 

Every now and then Dean would pause to inspect their surroundings, kneeling to study disturbed ground or touching the bark of the trees as if he could hear them talk of what they had seen. It was an entrancing sight, watching Dean in his element, of performing the tracking part of the hunt rather than just the killing aspect. Cas sometimes forgot that this was a part of Dean’s job too, since all he was ever really around for was either the investigating or the fighting.

“You getting anything?” 

“Hmm?”

Dean looked back, a coy grin in place. “Thought you might be able to sense something?”

“Oh. No. I haven’t.”

The news didn’t upset Dean, who just grinned wickedly. “Distracted from looking at my fine ass, huh?” Cas didn’t reply, but he did smile. 

“Should we head back into town?” Cas asked later into the hunt without any leads.

They had already taken two short breaks so that Dean could eat the beef jerky he had brought and down an entire bottle of water. Cas figured though, that Dean would want something more. “Nah.” Dean shrugged the suggestion off. “We got everything we need to survive the night.” He smiled merrily, green eyes lit from the lowering sun. “It’ll be like camping.”

“We’ll be more vulnerable at night.”

The hunter cocked his head with a playful smirk at the edges of his lips. “You’re telling me your afraid of some wimpy cannibal?” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “You’ll be more vulnerable,” he corrected.

Dean bumped shoulders with him, eyes cast to the side to watch him with a mischievous glint. “Me? Vulnerable? Ha! Anyways, I have you to protect me if anything goes wrong.”

It was things like that that made Cas thankful that Sam hadn’t tagged along. If he had, Dean wouldn’t have been saying such things. 

They continued on a while after the sun lowered, Cas a step or two behind Dean. As they kept walking and tracking, Cas stayed in his state of contentment, but it was obvious that Dean was becoming bored. For as good as he was at this part of his job, and as much as he may have enjoyed the scenery (though he would never admit it), Cas could tell the moment tracking was no longer enough. 

The hunter sighed and set his bag down. “Guess we should call it a day.”

Cas followed his lead, sitting close by when Dean leaned against a tree. “Were you able to get anything?”

“The wendigo’s certainly been past here. I just can’t tell how much farther his little hidy hole is.”

“And you’ll be fine if we stop for the night?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes Cas. Not my first night in the woods hunting down a wendigo. Though I guess it has been a while.” He frowned...maybe pouted. “Maybe I did get a little rusty.”

“Well, I’ll watch over you.”

Dean moved away from the tree to lay down on the ground beside Cas. “I know you will Angel.” The top of his head bumped into Cas’s leg and in less the an hour he was asleep. 

The night was cool with only a slight breeze coming in every now and then, and Cas was able to keep his hunter warm with his overcoat. Again, despite the less than optimal sleeping conditions, Dean slept rather peacefully. Upon reaching his REM state, Cas thought it the right time to maneuver Dean’s head onto his lap so as to allow him to get a little more comfortable. It was clearly the right choice to make when Dean snuggled deeper into his thigh.

“Don’t you two just look vomit-inducingly adorable.” Someone sneered nearby. “Aw, I think Squirrel’s even drooling a little.”


End file.
